Brat Mail

Kash Doll’s short, 22-minute album contains a lot of flex, some humility, but feels like a victory lap run before the official race has even started.

Detroit native Kash Doll’s catalog isn’t that large—Keisha vs. Kash Doll and Trapped in the Dollhouse are her two prior releases—but there’s a regality to her that suggests otherwise. Her persona is a spiritual descendant of Trina, whose ribald capitalism sneers at the sight of lowly Washingtons. Whereas the idea of starting-from-the-bottom is an essential part of Cardi B’s appeal, Kash Doll minimizes that come-up narrative for a worldview that’s a bit more audacious. Her raps explain she’s better than you because it’s simply the way of the universe. The opening seconds of her breakout “2 On” remix finds her comfortable and pampered up in her bedroom, throwing out a light-footed set of lines as if to humor us.

But she isn’t ungrateful: Brat Mail, which arrived on her birthday, is an act of humility. The 22-minute project partly works as a thank you note; the audio of her acceptance speech for the fan-voted Issa Wave award from this year’s the BET Social Awards is included here. Because Kash Doll is also a boss, Brat Mail must work as a flex. The a capella intro finds her proceeding as such, throwing together a barrage of punchlines: “Any bitch think I drop dick/Get higher than Mariah, and she like a five octave.” But it’s also a reprise of her BET Cypher verse, so the self-satisfied chuckle she lets out at the end is a bit alienating.

Brat Mail often feels like a victory lap run before the official race has even started. There’s a self-congratulatory vibe that makes the effort needlessly low stakes, ultimately refracting her natural charisma in ways that sound rote. “Check,” the clear single from these nine tracks, suffers most from this myopic focus. The banger potential is squandered for a hook that’s a very barebones laundry list of tropes to keep...well, in check (her looks, this money, these hoes). To compare, Meek Mill’s song of the same name is even more repetitious, but he delivers it with a violence that emanates urgency. Brat Mail attempts to be Boss Shit, but the feeling of that idea isn’t quite imbued in the songs.

Over a series of glittery, percussive beats, Kash Doll’s queenly personality remains assertive in whatever flow she flips through. On “Dividends,” she closes her first verse with hurried spurts to get an extra half a bar to laugh at our misfortune of not being her. But she’s playful to the point where she’ll throw out misfires that we’re supposed to let slide because Brat Mall is a celebration. The “Now it's the dolly, not Parton” line that opens “Check” is the sort of pun that’s probably been toyed with by at least one Doll rapper. “Coogi sweater, bitch I'm Biggie” from “Rich Talk” is predictable and feels hewed in, like she’s run out of ideas in less than 20 minutes.

The album ends with that clip of her accepting that BET award, humbly thanking the network for the shine while reminding the audience of that Cypher performance. As the closer to an ultimately middling effort, it comes across as a coronation that’s just too soon. Brat Mail doesn’t frustrate because it hints at a talent hitting her ceiling. There’s a sense she’d do more if only she could find a reason to—because she’s the boss.